


Autumn Sun

by nevermindgrantaire



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types, Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Fluff, maid and mistress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindgrantaire/pseuds/nevermindgrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura is a maid; Carmilla is a spoilt rich kid who is determined at least to start with not to have a maid. Eventually though, things work themselves out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn Sun

Carmilla Karnestein did not want another maid. True, it sometimes got lonely in the huge old house. And, she supposed, it was also true that it was difficult sometimes to style her hair on her own, because it was so curly and disobedient. But Carmilla was very much in the habit of disagreeing with any idea that she had not come up with herself, and therefore she had made up her mind. No matter what, she did not want another maid.

Especially after what had happened with Elle. Every time she thought about it, it bought on another wave of shame and intense embarrassment and the ever-present gnawing _fear_. What if Elle told someone? She had been so angry, so damn angry when she had handed in her resignation. Carmilla hated to admit that she missed her.

So maybe she was lonely, but she didn’t like being around other people for long. She isolated herself for a reason; to be alone. She did not need, or want, a maid to come along and ruin her solitude.

Especially not one like this.

She sat in the shadows at the top of the servant’s staircase, watching through the bars of the railing as the housekeeper showed someone in; a slim figure in a pale green dress and a hooded cloak, hood left down so that her golden hair coiled on top of her head was left exposed. Carmilla sniffed derisively to herself. Little Miss milk-and-honey sent from London wouldn’t last a second in her company. The dark-haired girl leaned forward a little, trying to catch the tail-end of the conversation; she could hear the girl laughing. An annoying laugh, she decided, even as a small voice in the back of her head objected, posing the perspective that actually it very much liked the new girl’s laugh.

Her mother had insisted on it. If she wasn’t going to be coming out into society this year then at least she should have an education in how to behave when she finally did, a maid to help her dress beautifully and a housekeeper to show her how to host a party and a tutor to teach her Latin and French and music and dancing. The tutor was the least objectionable part of this arrangement- she liked Lafontaine and their odd quirks- and at least the housekeeper left her alone. Perry knew how she liked things, and preserved them perfectly. The old house that she had grown up in was her mother’s least favourite of their homes, and so Carmilla stayed; burying herself in her isolation.

Until now. Below, the girl was taking her cloak off. Her skirt frothed around her feet like a living creature at every movement. Carmilla watched as the two talked, as Perry passed her a pile of uniform clothing and smiled at her like she was talking to her new-found daughter; she looked so fond. Carmilla snorted. No matter how easily Perry melted, it would be impossible to get through to her. Perry touched the girl’s arm, leading her towards the door and Carmilla twisted up on her vantage point, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl’s face. Then her heart stopped.

Just before she crossed out of view, the girl looked up. She looked up, directly into Carmilla’s eyes, and blinked in confusion; her pretty face furrowed with a frown. She was pretty, Carmilla thought. A roundish face framed with golden hair that didn’t seem to want to stay where it had been put. Dark brown eyes framed with thick lashes and she seemed to be blessed with perfect skin. Lucky her. She seemed very… alive. Her eyes were bright, mouth expressive, and she never seemed still. Carmilla replayed the image in her head over and over as the girl turned away to leave.

 With a thud, she let her head fall back against the wood panelled wall and groaned.

 

 

 

Summer came fast and hot and heavy, and sank away into an autumn that tainted everything with its russet glow. In the old castle, the night’s cold crept in through the cracks in the dark stone walls and seeped up from the floor and even the huge roaring fires that Laura coaxed into life each morning could not warm them fully.

Laura could have sworn that this was not given as part of the job’s description. Sleeves rolled up to stop them getting dirty, she hauled the basket of logs up the servant’s staircase with a groan. “Damn… ridiculous… rich people,” she muttered under her breath. “If you just… lived in smaller… houses… your poor innocent… servants would not… need to-” She pushed the door to Carmilla’s chambers open, and stopped dead.

In the centre of the Persian rug, in the single patch of light cast by the dying sun through the window, Carmilla was sat, a book beside her. The last of the autumn sun lit up her face, casting shadows over her cheekbones. She wore a plain shirt and a black skirt but both bore the tell-tale tailored signs of wealth- her buttons were half undone, and she was corsetless. Her eyes were shut, luxuriating in the natural sunlight; her long eyelashes stroked gently over her pale cheeks. In the moment of silence, her lips were smiling. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless and Laura found herself smiling in response. She was like a cat, she thought to herself. A scruffy, privileged, arrogant, rude little kitten, seeking out any source of warmth possible. She looked almost lovely, Laura thought, leaning her head against the doorframe as she watched her. Almost kind, in the quiet.

Carmilla let her head fall back, the autumn light hitting her throat, and running through her hair, and Laura had a sudden feeling that she should move, cough, make some kind of noise to let Carmilla know that she was there, because she felt like she was intruding on something very private.

“Come in,” Carmilla said suddenly, making Laura jump. “Come away and close the door; you are letting the chill in.”

“Sorry, yes of course,” Laura stammered. She turned to sorting the fire, too fast and too flustered to catch the knowing smirk that slid onto her mistress’ face.

The fire poured light into the room and Carmilla stretched out in the warmth. “Come sit with me,” she said.

Laura hovered, tentative. “I do not think-”

“Then do not think. Just…” She sighed, exasperated, and patted the rug beside her. Laura sank unwilling onto the soft carpet, green petticoats billowing around her as she sat. Her hands fluttered nervously on her plain cotton skirts.

“Your mother will be visiting later this week,” Laura said to break the silence. Her eyes were drawn to the sharp lines of her neck, the curve of her jaw and the curls of hair that escaped from the river of neat darkness.

Carmilla sighed out a laugh. “She would lose her mind if she saw me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Relaxed. Sitting on the floor. Not wearing corsets. Lacking decorum.” Carmilla laughed. “Having you around has been good for me, I think, but bad for her vision of what I should be.”

Laura shook her head. “It is not my doing. I would rather not be fired after two months, you know.”

“You make me loose.” Carmilla grinned at her, a grin she had never seen on her face before. “You make me crazy.”

Blushing, Laura looked away; she could feel the blush on her cheeks, eating away at her face. “I suppose I am your friend as well as your servant,” she suggested, a hint of a question in her voice and Carmilla’s smile grew.

“You have no idea.”

They sat for a while, Carmilla bathing in the sunlight and Laura watching the flames in the fire. At length, Laura spoke. “What are you reading?”

“Palm reading. Not an exact science. Foolish, really. But interesting all the same. And with mother’s restrictions on what I can and cannot learn about, it is the closest I think I will get.”

Laura laughed. “I had my palm read once. By a man at the fair. He told me I would meet a tall and handsome stranger and then he asked me to come back to see him before the fair moved on. I never did. I never cared for that sort of thing.”

“Let me try,” Carmilla asked. She took Laura’s hand and carefully unfurled her unresisting fingers to get a clear view of the pale white palm. Her finger dipped delicately along the fine lines and the winding paths of wrinkles on her hand, and Laura yelped as she brushed a sensitive spot.

“Wait, wait!” She pulled her hand away, stifling more laughter. “That tickles.”

“You are in love with someone,” said Carmilla, and she tried to sound flippant but her eyes were too clear for that. “Your lines say you are in love with someone but that you don’t quite realise it. You will realise soon, it says.”

Laura’s laugh died. “Oh,” she said. “I suppose I am.”

Carmilla watched her face, tried to meet her eyes, but Laura’s gaze was lost in the fire. “What is he like?”

“He?” Laura asked. “Oh! He is… He is beyond me. Far beyond me.” She shook her head. “Let’s not talk of this any longer.”

“Laura, believe me when I tell you that no one is beyond you.”

She smiled, a little bitterly though she tried hard not to. “I think you would understand if you knew.”

Carmilla gave her a long look. Then she leaned forward, cupping a hand around her face. Her long fingers brushed Laura’s cheekbone.

Laura let out a shaky breath. “I… What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Laura let out a little sigh when their lips finally touched, relief and a sudden tiredness that she had been holding back so long.

When finally they broke apart, Laura stared at her with star-studded eyes and kiss-stained lips. “Do you treat all your maids like this?” She teased, still trying to wrap her mind around it.

Carmilla blinked slowly and turned to look at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “In truth, yes.” She paused, taking in Laura’s gape-mouthed shock. “But I have only had two maids, and both have been… Exceptions.”

“You have done this before?”

Carmilla nodded. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” Laura tilted her head. “Should it?”

“No.” Carmilla laughed like she felt she should be joking, but every word was serious. “Despite my best intentions, I cannot help how I'm drawn towards you.” She leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss again, teasing out squeaks and sighs and giggles until Laura was laid out on the rug with Carmilla beside her, chests pressed together so she could look into her face.

Carmilla leaned forward, but Laura frowned, wriggling slightly in Carmilla’s arms. “Wait, stop.”

“What is it?” Carmilla relaxed her grip slightly, a frown furrowing her brow.

“What…” She took a deep breath, hating how much she sounded like a character torn from one of the pages of Carmilla's romance novels. “What are we?”

“People, perhaps?” Carmilla suggested guilelessly. “Human beings? Brief shadows on this earth shrinking before our ever-present final moments scrambling for the few scraps of happiness that remain available to us? Ow!”

Laura poked her in the ribs, tickling her in a sensitive spot and Carmilla squirmed away, laughing brighter than Laura had ever seen her. “You know what I mean! Be serious, my lady. What… what is this between us?”

Carmilla shrugged, stepping forward to pull Laura back into her arms. “I do not know, truthfully. Friends? But it is more than that. A mere flirtation?” She kissed her and drew an insulted gasp from the girl in her arms. “No. It is far more than that.” Her lips moved to Laura’s ear, whispering. “Lovers? I like the sound of that.”

Laura laughed, a little breathless. “I like the sound of that too.”

“Good.” The kiss that followed stretched on for what seemed like forever.


End file.
